Try It, Little Man, I Dare You
by Steel and Ink
Summary: Fat Amy was doing just fine on her own. And she would have done even better if she and Bumper had gotten real screen time and an actual relationship. Fat Amy/Bumper and their story.
1. Initiation

Hello! I just watched pitch perfect and it was fabulous, but the ending felt unfinished so YAY RESOLUTION! I have several ships in that movie so don't you dare think this will be the only story about it. This story is from Fat Amy's POV. I do not own Pitch Perfect nor am I connected with its producers, crew or cast.

Chapter 1

I still can't believe my sexy fat ass got into this party. Even if I sing like God, who would've thought that all these skinny aca-bastards and bitches would've let me show up?

Lookin around, none of them seem all that bad. Annoying, and pretty ugly, but not bad. Except maybe those two dorks off on the edge. The short shit and the turd pile...cute couple.

I watch them a little more. They look a bit sad. And bored. And obnoxious. Maybe my sexy fat ass can cheer them up. If I try they might buy me a drink. Fat Amy likes her drinks.

I walk up. "What are you two turdburgers talkin about?" The little white one shoos his friend away and puts on a constipated suave face. Not bad. I like a guy who can take charge.

He looks me up and down. "You are probably the grossest human being I've ever seen." I smirk. "You're no panty dropper yourself."

Sarcasm and insults right off the bat. Not too shabby for a little white man. Still, he's an asshole. I don't like him much, but at the same time I really do.

We chat a bit longer, then he offers me a sip of his drink. "No thanks, yours is probably poisonous since you're an asshole and all. But you could buy me my own," I tell him.

He smirks. "Nope. I don't have enough money to buy all the drinks you'll want."

I scoff. "Whatever. You're missing out on a fine piece of drunk ass." "Really? Where?"

Someone turns up the music in the center, and I scream. "YES! This is my jam!" I turn to him. "Do you know this, or has it not reached through your thick skull quite yet?" He shrugs. "Of course I know it, fatass. It's damn good." I nod. "Yeah, I think so too."

As it reaches the chorus, I leap up and spread my legs between two benches. "Yea music, come to mama!" I scream happily.

He glances up at me. "You're an idiot."

I glare at him. "If you're gonna insult me, do it right. I'm Fat Amy." He snorts into his cup. "Yeah you are."

"Oh, and what's your lovely name, Captain Pig-laugh?" He scowls. "Bmpr," he mumbles into the cup. I lean down. "Sorry, didn't hear that. Your stupid was in the way of my ears."

He glares at me. "My name's Bumper." I chortle, then see his face turn bright red and laugh harder. "Bumper? Is that a nickname you gave yourself for bumping into all these marvelous aca-bitches? No, I doubt that, you're probably still a virgin, since you're a douche and all."

I pump my arms wildly to the music, and he says something but I don't hear it. "Not listening, talk louder!" I yell to him.

He slaps my arm. "Gimme your number." I whirl at him. "Why would I do that? You're an asshole!" "Just give it to me."

I hop down. "No. I took an oath with the Bellas that I would not be sexual with any Treble members and I absolutely refuse to have anything to do with you."

"Then why are you talking to me?" "I dunno short shit, why?" He runs a hand through his air. "Because I'm spectacular and you couldn't resist me, of course."

I shrug. "Actually I just wanted to get drunk, and you looked desperate enough to help me."

He scowls. "Bitch, I dare you to challenge me." I grin. "Try it, short shit. I will kick your ass all the way back to its sorry mama."

He starts to walk away. "Watch your back, Fat Amy!" he shouts. I act frightened. "Aaaahhh, look out, it's the short singing white boy! I'm terrified of his puny ass!" He growls. "This isn't over. And I'm getting that number."

He turns away and begins walking, and I watch him travel down the row. "Good, 'cause I stuck it in your drink while you were being a dipshit," I shout. He freezes, and I turn and head back to my dorm.


	2. An Aid? Really?

Chapter 2

Who do I find when I walk into music class the next morning than Bumper the Bitch?

I strut up to him as he scribbles on the whiteboard. "Aw, short shit, you're in a freshman class. Did you get lost again?"

He starts and jumps around. His face scrunches. "Oh god, it's you." I stick my hands on my hips. "Yeh, it's me. Who were you expecting, the muffin man?"

He nods. "Yes. I receive muffins from him every morning. One of the benefits of being a teacher's aid."

"Teacher's aid? Really? You can do that with your IQ?" I say, shocked. He smirks. "Oh, whatever. It's music class, and what you gotta remember is that when it comes to music, I'm a genius! I lead the Treble Makers! I have the solos! I know what I'm doing!" He glances at the clock. "Oh and, class started two minutes ago, so I'm gonna need you to sit your giant ass down in a chair. Maybe two if that's the only way you're gonna fit."

I stick my tongue out at him but sit down as the professor enters the room. He writes his name on the board next to Bumper's, who smirks wickedly. Poor weak freshmen, he's probably thinkin. We'll see who gets the last laugh.

Professor Sandaz? Sanchez? Sanhas? I can't read his handwriting, but the name doesn't really matter. He looks like the type to sleep with a student to give them better grades.

"All right class, today we'll be singing as high and as low as you can," he rumbles. "In this class we use music to communicate everything. You may sing your answers, use Morse code on a xylophone, anything you like, so long as it's musical. Questions?"

Everyone is silent, but as he keeps singing instructions a few nervous-looking students collect their things and step out the door. "Wusses," I mutter between coughs.

Bumper glares at me, and I roll my eyes. I would drop the class if I didn't like music so much, but this little shit needs to learn a lesson.

After class, I'm packing up when Bumper passes by and slaps my ass. "Watch it, Fatty. I'm in charge here."

I stand straight up and panic. "SEXUAL HARASSMENT!" I scream. "SEXUAL HARASSMENT BY THE TEACHER'S AID! PROFESSOR, YOUR TA IS TOUCHING ME!"

The professor walks over and glances disinterestedly at us both. "Bumper, you can do better. Don't waste your time here." He drops his arm around Bumper's shoulders, and his TA returns the favor.

I grit my teeth. The teacher is on Bumper's side. Fucking wonderful.

I grab my bag and stomp out of the classroom. At the door, I turn and glance at the professor. "Gay pedophilia won't make people like you," I tell him cheerfully.

~~~~~~~~later~~~~~~~~~

The first Bellas rehearsal was a disaster. I almost wish Aubrey had thrown up again, because it might have been better. And cardio? Really? I will not be doing any cardio. Horizontal running, that's what I can do for those bitches.

I hit mid-campus and look around. Where's my dorm anyway? I turn in almost a full circle before I spot something ugly and freeze.

Bumper's sittin by the fountain, drumming on his shoes with that Indian kid and the little ho with the fro. Normally I'd sass him, but after all that dancing I just don't have the energy.

I turn around and start walking. Hopefully he won't spot me, but it's hard to miss all this gorgeous. The courtyard's a bit full, so I keep hope alive.

No such luck. "Hey, Fat Amy! Look who showed up!"

I groan and turn around. Bumper runs up and lands sharply in front of me, almost on my toes. "I hope you know that after that little stunt you pulled, the professor..."

Oh boy, here it comes. "Oh, whatever. I'm banned from class, and I'm in trouble, and blah blah blah. Save it for someone who gives a damn."

I turn back around and keep heading for my dorm. At least I think it's my dorm. It might be nowhere.

He catches up and grabs my shoulder. "Actually, he liked your sass. As annoying as you are, he wants to keep you around. So show up tomorrow." He smiles quickly and pats my hand before walking away.

I stare after him, confused. "So that's it? You're just going to be nice now?" He looks bewildered. "Hell no, fatass. I'm just sending the message."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. See you tomorrow, short shit."

Somehow I figure out where my dorm is. I knew it all along, I tell myself. Bullshit. I'm horrible at directions.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out. A text from Beca.

And one from Bumper.

Well that's annoying.


	3. The First Drink

Chapter 3

I flip open my phone. Beca just wants to rage about Aubrey, so I trash it. I am not in the mood for these skinny bitches and their whining and their cardio.

Bumper's is easier. Sup, fatass. Wanna grab a drink later? I smirk. He wants to take Amy out? He's gotta earn it.

Answer a question first.

Fine. What is it?

What's my mother's dingo's puppy's name?

...HOW WOULD I KNOW?!

Okay. You pass. Pick me up in ten minutes, and if you're late I get to slap your horse face.

...I'm not agreeing to that.

You're down to nine minutes.

Fine. I'm coming. Calm your giant tits.

So he noticed that they're giant. I thought he might. It's pretty hard to ignore these monsters.

Wait a minute...how does he know where I am to come get me? I check my old texts. I sure didn't tell him.

I pass a big tree and Bumper leaps out from behind it. "SUP FATASS." he yells as loud as he can.

I jump amd swing my arms into karate position, yelling "HOLY SHIT!" My arm accidentally connects with his stomach, and he grunts and falls over. "Jesus, Amy, what the hell?" he mutters, curled up in a ball. I hiss. "That's what you get for surprising me."

He glares at me, his face wrinkled like a bulldog's, all puckered in pain. I brush off my sleeves and go back to a standing position. "Don't be such a wimp. It wasn't that hard. Now are we getting drinks or not?"

He stumbles to his feet and nods, still winded. He hasn't recovered from one tiny hit? So lame. I didn't even do it on purpose. He nods, lips pursed. "Yeah. Right. Drinks."

I can't help it. He looks so pathetic. I cross my arms. "Come on. The first one's on me since I accidentally punched you."

He grins and stands a little straighter. "Sweet. Free beer."

Oh God. What have I gotten myself into?

~~~~~~~at the bar~~~~~~~~

He made me sit at the counter. It's so annoying. My ass barely fits on these tiny spinny stools.

"Christ on a stick," I mutter as I slip yet again. "Sheesh, can't we sit at a table?" He shakes his head. "The beer comes faster when you sit here," he tells me. I roll my eyes. "We've already had three beers each. How much faster do you need them before you fall over?"

He grins. "You underestimate me. I can do six beers in one hour." I stare at him. "Wouldn't you get poisoned?" I point out. He shakes his head. "Nope. I'm talented." He waggles his eyebrows at me. "In more ways than one."

I roll my eyes and sip my drink. "Don't even think about it, short shit. It's never gonna happen."

He tilts his head at me. "Oh really?" I nod. "Of course not. You're obnoxious and ridiculous and I'm not interested." He raises his eyebrows. "Then why did you meet me for a drink?"

I choke for a moment. Why did I? No. This is no time to panic. Come on, Amy. You can't let him win. "Cuz I like beer. That a problem?"

He looks slightly disappointed, but orders two more drinks. My fourth, his fifth. How much beer is he going to drink? What time is it anyway?

The overhead music stops, and when I turn around I see that the jukebox record has stopped. "I'm going to pick a song," I say rapidly, and I leap off the stool, making a perfect landing and moving straight into a walk with no hiccups. Nailed it.

I pore over the records for a while before picking some song I've never heard of. Why is Bumper making me so nervous? I hate his guts. It should be easy to sass him.

Returning to the counter, I find Bumper standing, even if he's a little wobbly. "I paid for the drinks," he mutters. I glare at him. "I can pay for my own drinks, asshole," I snap. He shakes his head. "Too late. I paid. What do I get in return?"

He leers at me, a little too close for comfort. I frown. "Bumper. Go home. You're drunk." He smirks. "Neither of us can drive, now can we? We've had an awful lot of drinks."

Oh God. He has a point. I can't drive right now, and he definitely can't. I glance at the clock. It's after midnight and we're five miles from campus.

I sigh. "I'm finding a hotel." He grins and wraps his arms around my waist, leaning his head on my shoulder. He smells like alcohol and...cologne. Strangely, it's not a bad combo.

"I like that plan," he whispers into my neck. "You and me alone in a hotel for the night..."

I blush furiously and shove him off me. "Don't even think about it, short shit. Separate rooms. And you're going straight to bed. You're going to have a nasty hangover in the morning."

He pouts, but I stand firm. I'm not sleeping with Bumper. No matter how horny I am, he is not an option. I slap his arms off me and stamp out the door.


	4. What the hell?

Chapter 4

The only hotel that had room was some grungy little Super 8 down the block from the bar. Luckily it had two rooms, and I walk into mine and sigh happily. I'm safe from Bumper.

I crash onto the bed and bury my face in the pillows, cackling with happiness. They aren't exactly comfy, but any bed is better than a five-mile stumble back to the dorm. I wrap it in my arms. "You're a good pillow aren't you, you're just the best pillow ever. I'm going to sleep on you and we'll wake up in the morning and I'll take you home because you are such a great pillow."

"Why can't you do that with me?" a low voice chimes in. I startle and flail, thunking to the ground amid a mess of tangled sheets. Bumper stands over me, his upside-down grin half-hidden by fabric. I sputter.

"HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?" I bellow, struggling to my hands and knees. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET OUT, YOU LITTLE SHIT! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP!"

He steps back, a little afraid of the roaring pile of blankets. "There's a door between our rooms. Did you not notice?" he asks innocently, batting large puppy eyes. "It was lonely in there, so I thought I would come...talk...to you."

I don't like his tone, and I yank the last of the sheets off me and rise to my feet. "Nope, you're leaving. Right now. Sorry short shit, except I'm not." I begin shoving him back towards the open door in the wall. "Good night, goodbye, until tomorrow, et cetera, et cetera, OUT!"

He braces his hands against the doorframe and refuses to be pushed farther. I shove my weight against him, but he still doesn't budge. "You think that's all it'll take, Fat Amy?" he asks mockingly. "I'm not leaving until I get a goodnight kiss."

"Oh, let me guess, you'll want goodnight sex afterwards?" "I never said that, but now that you mention it..."

I take a few steps back and make a running leap, knocking him through the door and slamming it behind him. I turn the lock, and he bangs on it, shouting. "Amy! Hey Amy, come on! I was kidding! Let me in! AMY! I BOUGHT YOUR DRINK! YOU OWE ME ONE!"

"I owe you one! That doesn't mean I owe you sex! One does not equal sex! Do the math, short shit!" I call back.

He pounds the door, a sharp and angry sound, but I walk back to bed and crash into it. I'm so done with this little shit. If he makes it in here, I'm going to shred him like my mama dingo taught me in the outback. I'm going to sleep.

A few hours later, a small clicking noise interrupts my sleep, and I roll over. My senses aren't totally alert, but I don't see anything odd. I close my eyes and begin drifting back to dreamland when a figure rises over the edge of the bed, resting its chin on the covers. I can hear it breathing. It's a fire demon, I swear. My hand shoots out, wrapping around its head, and I pull it close ready to send it back to the hell where it belongs. I scream, bellowing a war cry in the demon's face. Teach the little fucker to mess with me.

It's Bumper.

I groan and release his face, and he drops to the floor, gasping for breath. "BUMPER! What the hell are you doing?" I snap.

He rubs his chin where I gripped it, his movements blurry in the dark room. I reach to turn on the bedside lamp, but his voice stops me. "Don't," he growls. My hand freezes mid-air. He glances up, his eyes shimmering in the darkness.

I sit up. He's acting weird. I'm a bit worried about him. Maybe someone spiked one of his drinks with some weird drug thing. "Bumper, are you okay? You're acting really strange."

Without another word, he smashes his lips against mine, so hard I can barely breathe. His mouth burns with the taste of leftover alcohol and the mint gum he chewed earlier. It spices my tongue...and I'm not sure if I like it.

I shove him off me and slap him, but he pins my arms to my sides and crawls on top of me. His eyes are wild, his hair tangled, and for the first time I'm kind of scared of him. He really does look like a demon.

"Bumper," I say slowly and clearly. "Get off me before I call the police."

"No," he growls, before smashing his lips against me. His frantic hands tug at my jacket, yank at the buttons on my jeans, and it feels so good, I like it, I love it, I want him to touch me, I want him to get off me.

My shirt rips, shredded right down the middle, and he presses his mouth to my neck, biting down with teeth that are uncomfortably sharp.

I have no idea what the hell is going on but oh God, Fat Amy is into the wild side.


End file.
